Needed
by NeonCharlie
Summary: What Buffy needs Giles supplies, no matter how much it kills him.


**A/N: **A little oneshot written way back in January that I still like enough to post.

Disclaimers: I don't (and never will) own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

* * *

Dear lord, it hurt to look at her.

He turned his head away from her naked figure, twisted in the blue striped sheets- his sheets- her lithe, milky body exposed in the golden hues. In the corner of his eye, dawn's fingers caressed the strong fragility it found in his bed, her illuminated back rising and falling with each intake of breath. The slow, steady rhythm shouldn't have set his heart racing with desire, shouldn't have subdued every trace of moral, shouldn't have set his senses on fire.

It shouldn't have stopped him from thinking.

But now, he wished lust was enough to stop the onslaught of the frank truth that was last night. He didn't want to think of how they got here, didn't want to be reminded of the reason a dagger twisted ever more deeply into his heart with every passing second.

Of course, the strong opposition only made those damned memories come faster and harder.

* * *

"Buffy? It's nearly eleven; shouldn't you be out on patrol?"

He had opened the door to admit a pensive Slayer, her eyes set on the floor before her.

"Hi, Giles... I suppose the baddie of the week can wait a bit. I-" she opened her mouth wordlessly, biting her lip before continuing, "There's kind of... I really don't know how to say this-"

"Buffy, you know you can tell me anything," he reminded gently while slipping into 'listening mode.' He took one of her trembling hands into his own, holding it tried to communicate all his good intentions, all his love and whatever else she needed from him in that one touch.

She looked into his eyes for the first time that night, jade meeting blue.

There, he saw shame.

And then her mouth was pressed against his own with a fierceness that secretly frightened him. She pushed him from the door and shut it with a fast kick (not even bothering to lift her face from his) that sent tremors down his spine. She grasped the nape of his neck, moving him back and jumping onto him, his arms forced to catch her slight waist.

He pulled back from her, astonished.

"Buffy, what are you doing?" the sudden images of Eyghon flashing through his mind in a flood of terror.

Oh, if it were that simple.

She just shook her head violently and molded their mouths together again, her lower lip shaking against his with unshed tears. He continued to falter backwards until he found a wall.

Even as she trusted him to support and hold her up, she controlled him.

She kissed him harder, trembling harder with every taste of his lips. She leaned from him to unbutton his pajama shirt, her hands a mess on his chest.

"Buffy, stop-" he started, setting her down to steady her hands.

"No, Giles. I need this. I- I need to feel something. I need to know if I can. I- I have to know.

"If you can't give me what I need, I swear I'll go to Spike."

He stared down at her, shocked. He wanted to push her away, to tell her that this was going too far, that she was asking too much this time. But the desperation and brokenness her voice intoned was the end of his resolve.

His arms lay limply at his sides as he allowed her to take over.

Soon, the feel of her body against his, the brush of her lips all over, and her intoxicating scent quieted the roar of his thoughts, so he may have imagined it, but he thought he heard a hollow, wisp of something... Was it...

"I'm sorry"?

* * *

And so she used him. After all they had sacrificed for each other, after all those years of laying an unbreakable bond of trust and love for each other. It could mean nothing or everything. The decision was his alone.

She didn't face him as she dressed and descended the loft steps, saying nothing as she neared the door.

"Buffy?"

She turned, her face an undecipherable mask.

"I still love you. I always will."

She blinked, looking straight into his eyes for the first time that morning.

"I know."


End file.
